Promises
by redthebloodofangrymen
Summary: A random story of Grantaire and Enjolras that popped into my head one day and demanded to be written. A conversation with Enjolras leads to Grantaire promising that he'll try to stop drinking for a week.


_Enjolras_, Grantaire thought, he tried to think the name with disdain, but he couldn't do it. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't think of Enjolras with anything but admiration.

That didn't mean he understood him though. How anyone could believe in a cause, in anything, with such conviction? People couldn't change the world and trying only got you hurt. He knew that. And yet, listening to Enjolras, there were times that Grantaire couldn't help but believe him, against his better judgement.

"Grantaire!"

The shout brought him out of his thoughts and back into the present.

"You don't even listen," Enjolras growled. "Why do you even bother coming?"

"I was listening," Grantaire replied defensively.

"What did I just say?" Enjolras demanded.

Grantaire looked down at his feet, wanting to avoid Enjolras' eyes. He couldn't answer the question and he didn't want to see the hate in Enjolras' eyes; the hate that was always there when Enjolras looked at him.

_He hates me._ That thought was about enough to make him cry. Why did Enjolras hate him?

Looking down, Grantaire didn't even know if Enjolras even looked at him. He did, however, hear the disgusted scoff and that was almost enough to make flinch.

Reaching down he grabbed the bottle he had sitting down beside his chair and took a long swing. He almost dropped the bottle though, when a loud noise echoed through the room.

Glancing up and around, seeing the expression on Enjolras' face and his hand pressed against the surface of the table, this time Grantaire did flinch.

"Either put that bottle down and start paying attention, or get out!" Enjolras snarled. "We have work to do and we don't need you making a mess of things."

Everyone's eyes were on him, and yet, Enjolras' were the only ones he noticed. And for a long moment all he did was sit silently.

"Well, what's it going to be?" Enjolras demanded.

Grantaire was tempted to get up and leave right then, but he couldn't. If he did, Enjolras would never forgive him. Nor would he tolerate his presence in future meetings and if he could not be near Enjolras, Grantaire was certain he would die. So, instead, he slowly lowered his bottle back to the floor. "I'm staying."

"Alright then," Enjolras said and Grantaire could have sworn he saw a flicker of a smile of approval as he said that. But it was gone too soon for him to tell for certain. "Does everyone know what they need to do?"

Around the Café everyone was nodding vigorously. Everyone except Grantaire that is, and to Grantaire's surprise Marius wasn't either.

Grantaire normally liked the young boy, but now, all he could think of was how glad he wouldn't be the only one Enjolras yelled at for not knowing what to do. "Can't say I have any clue what to do," Grantaire called out, quite cheerfully.

"Of course you don't." Enjolras' response was harsh and cold. "And what's the point of telling you? You're drunk and we'll be lucky if you can remember your name when you wake up tomorrow."

"I'm not drunk!" Grantaire protested, and that was, sadly, the truth. Most of his money had vanished at some point during his walk to the cafe and he didn't have near enough left to buy enough alcohol to get drunk on. One look at Enjolras though was enough to make it clear that the younger man didn't believe him. "Marius doesn't know what to do either," he muttered, his hand instinctively reaching for the bottle again. A sharp glance from Enjolras though was enough for him to bring his hand back to his lap.

Grantaire watched as Enjolras turned to look at Marius, but even with Enjolras' gaze on Marius, Grantaire was certain Enjolras was still watching him.

"Marius?" Enjolras called.

"Hmm, yes?"

"Do you know what you're to do tonight?"

"Go and see Co-" Marius cut himself off quickly, as if suddenly realizing where he was. "That is, um, well, ah..."

"You too, Marius? I expect this type of... behavior" the word was said in disgust, "from Grantaire, but you?"

"I'm sorry, Enjolras," Marius said with a shrug. "I've had a lot on my mind."

"Alright then, just be sure you pay attention from now on. Tonight you need to-"

Marius hurriedly cut Enjolras off before he could go any farther. "Are you sure it has to be tonight? Tomorrow morning would be fine, right?"

"And what is wrong with tonight?" Enjolras asked slowly, his voice remarkably low and calm.

"Oh, nothing, it's just that I told her that I'd see her tonight."

"'Her'? A girl? You plan on neglecting your duties because of a girl?"

"Not a girl," Marius protested. "A woman. Cosette. The most beautiful woman in all of France."

"Get out!" Enjolras shouted, face livid. "What we are doing is more important than any girl. So, visit her if you want, but don't expect any duties until you are willing to put our revolution before anything else."

Shrugging, Marius grabbed his jacket and made his way to the door. Before exiting the café he called over his shoulder, "I'll see you all tomorrow."

Staring at Marius as he left, Enjolras eventually sunk down into his chair. "The rest of you, you know what to do, go get started."

At Enjolras' words the others in the café slowly made their way out. In a few minutes all that was left was Grantaire and Enjolras.

Grantaire remained seated, waiting for Enjolras to say something, but as the minutes crept by and Enjolras remained silent, Grantaire had to admit that the younger man likely didn't even realize he was still here. So, slowly standing, he made his way over to where Enjolras was sitting and sat down in the chair next to him.

"What are you doing here, Grantaire?" Enjolras demanded voice cold, not even bothering to look over at the other man.

"You never told me what to do."

"Is there a point?"

"Why do you hate me?" Grantaire asked, the words rushing out of his mouth before he could stop them. And oh, did he wish he could have.

That was enough to make Enjolras look at him, for once with a look of something other than disgust on his face. "I don't hate you."

"Yes, you do. You hate me." Grantaire wasn't sure why he was saying this, but he couldn't keep a little bit of hurt from entering his voice.

"I don't hate you," Enjolras repeated, a look of complete confusion on his face.

"Every time we talk, all you can do is talk of how useless I am. How I can't do anything right. You can't stand being in the same room as me."

"That's not true," Enjolras protested. "I don't hate you. I hate what you do to yourself. I hate that you don't care about what we're doing. What we're trying to accomplish is more important than anything else, but you don't care, all you care about is how much alcohol you can drink. It's disgusting."

"I do care," Grantaire whispered, so softly that Enjolras had to strain to make out what he said. "I try so hard not to, but I do."

Absorbed in thoughts of the past now, Grantaire didn't even notice the shocked look Enjolras was giving him.

"I don't want to care. Caring just gets you killed." He was talking to himself now, Enjolras forgotten, or as forgotten as much as his idol ever could be forgotten. "My uncle cared; he thought he could change the world too. He didn't change a thing though. His ideals just got him killed. After he was killed, I never heard from my cousins again. I don't know what happened to them; if they were killed too, if they are still alive somewhere."

"I... I didn't know," Enjolras said, stunned at this revelation.

"Of course you didn't, how could you? I never told anyone." There were a lot of things about his past he never told anyone; he didn't like thinking about them when he could avoid it. "I was sixteen when he was killed, that's when I started drinking. It was the only thing that made me forget."

"I'm sorry," Enjolras said softly.

"'s not your fault," Grantaire murmured as he reached for his bottle. It was not there though; he had not brought it with him when he moved seats, which meant he had to go get it. He started to stand when he felt Enjolras' hand on his shoulder.

"Don't," Enjolras said, still softly. "It won't help."

"Yes it will," Grantaire said, though he didn't make any effort to move. "It'll make me forget."

"It might make you forget, but only for a little while, and it won't change anything."

"Forgetting for a little while is good enough for me."

"You asked me what I wanted you to do when you first came and sat next to me, do you still want to hear?" Enjolras asked; he still had not taken his hand off Grantaire's shoulder.

"I thought there wasn't a point," Grantaire replied, ignoring the question.

"I want you to stop drinking."

That got a loud laugh out of Grantaire. "Why don't you ask for the king to come join your meetings and have the National Guard agree to support your revolt while you're at it?"

Enjolras didn't even acknowledge what Grantaire said. He just continued, "Just for a week. That's all I ask, one week with you not touching alcohol, of any type."

"That's impossible; I'll die."

"Please, Grantaire, just one week. I'll get everyone else to do the same."

"Why do you even care?"

"I don't want you to die, and if you keep up with this you will."

"My drinking is less likely to kill me then your revolution. It'll get everyone killed." Despite his words Grantaire was more focussed on what Enjolras said. Enjolras did not want him to die, did that mean Enjolras cared about him?

"I know," Enjolras whispered.

Grantaire had not been expecting that. Enjolras never showed any doubts when he talked about his revolution. The fact that they might die never came up in any of their meetings, at least not the one's he remembered. And he wasn't sure he liked hearing that doubt in Enjolras' voice.

"I know," Enjolras repeated his voice stronger this time, "but dying for a cause is different than dying because you killed yourself drinking."

Grantaire just shook his head. "I _need_ it though. I'll die without it."

"No you won't."

"I will. You don't understand; the memories..."

"Let's just do it one day at a time then. Just make it through the night without any more alcohol, okay?" Enjolras asked.

And against his better wisdom, Grantaire slowly nodded. Enjolras always had that effect on him, made him agree to things he never would have if anyone else asked.

"Okay then, let's go sit on the couch, it's more comfortable than these chairs."

Silently, Grantaire followed Enjolras as he led them to one of the few couches in the café, the one farthest from where his bottle was sitting on the floor. It was a small one though, not that any of them were particularly big, and once the two men were sitting down on opposite ends of the couch they were practically touching.

"Now go to sleep," Enjolras ordered softly.

"I can't sleep." He was exhausted but every time he closed his eyes and Grantaire saw was his uncle's lifeless body or worse. The memories of his past was burned into his head and the only times it went away was when he was drunk or listening to one of Enjolras' passionate speeches.

"Then just sit quietly, I'll tell you a bit about my past."

That got Grantaire's attention, despite all the meetings they had, Enjolras never talked about his past. He never talked about anything, but the future and how they would make the world a better place.

Nodding slightly, Grantaire just listened as Enjolras began to speak. He had questions about some of the things Enjolras seemed to skip over, but he did not voice them. He had no desire to interrupt Enjolras' story; he just wanted him to keep talking and talking.

And Enjolras did, the minutes crept into hours and still Enjolras spoke, eventually though, Grantaire couldn't keep his eyes open any longer and his head softly hit Enjolras' shoulder. In no time he slipped into a dreamless sleep one of the only ones he had had since he was sixteen and he began snoring softly.

A few hours later, without warning or reason Grantaire awoke suddenly. Sitting up straight, he rubbed his head. "That has to be the strangest dream I ever had." Even as he said that though, his head turned to see Enjolras sleeping next to him on the couch. "Oh," he whispered softly. It wasn't a dream. Did that mean he really made that stupid promise to Enjolras to stop drinking? He doubted it, he would never promise something like that unless he was really drunk and he could still remember most of yesterday's meeting which meant he had not been that drunk.

Deciding that he'd figure it out tomorrow, for now he needed a drink. Standing slowly, to make sure he did not disturb Enjolras, Grantaire made his way to where he left his bottle the night before.

Once he was near it, he knelt down and grabbed it. He had it raised to his mouth and was about to take a swig, when he glanced guiltily back at Enjolras. He had promised he wouldn't, he could remember that now. But Enjolras was sleeping, he wouldn't know. Except, deep down, Grantaire knew that wasn't true. Enjolras would know and if he did drink, Enjolras would go back to hating him. He'd probably hate him even more than he already did. Not only would he be a drunkard in Enjolras' eyes, but a person who did not keep his word.

With those thoughts in mind, Grantaire lowered the bottle his gaze continually shifting from the bottle to Enjolras. Which did he want more? That was the question. One with an easy answer. The alcohol numbed the pain, but Enjolras brought him joy and a purpose, even if Enjolras did not realize it.

With deep regret, he set the bottle down again and made his way back to the couch. Collapsing on to it with a soft thump, all Grantaire could think of was how he would not be able to fall asleep again. Enjolras was sleeping and he had no alcohol; that meant the memories would be there to haunt him the moment he closed his eyes.

So he didn't close them, he just sat on the couch and watched Enjolras slumber. His mind once again trying to figure out how anyone could believe something with the conviction that Enjolras did. He would never figure it out though, no matter how long he thought about it, he, who did not believe in anything other than the man sleeping next to him, would never understand the faith of others.

After a while, despite not wanting to fall asleep and be confronted by the memories, Grantaire's eyes slowly shut. They had only been closed for a moment when he heard a soft voice, "Thank you, Grantaire." Grantaire's eyes shot open again and he stared at Enjolras. The handsome young man was, to all appearances, fast asleep, but as Grantaire watched him he saw one of his eyes flicker open for just a moment and a smile appear on his face.

_Maybe I can do this_, Grantaire thought, looking at the smile on Enjolras' face. If Enjolras did not hate him, if Enjolras _believed _in him, maybe keeping his promise wouldn't be as hard as he thought it would be.


End file.
